


Chekov's Gun

by noodlerdoodler



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Autistic Vanya Hargreeves, Bisexual Diego Hargreeves, Canon Compliant, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves has ADHD, Diego Hargreeves wears glasses, Diego Hargreeves-centric, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler
Summary: Diego Hargreeves needs glasses (and he's not happy about it).This is how everyone reacts to him wearing them.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Everyone, Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch, Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts
Comments: 1
Kudos: 93





	Chekov's Gun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gecrgemichael (faith)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gecrgemichael+%28faith%29).



Diego was glad that it was his mom who had taken him. The only thing that had made sitting in the optometrist’s chair- it reminded him slightly too much of the tattooists’ chair- slightly bearable was his mom holding his hand the whole time. As the optician swapped out different lenses, asking him to do simple tasks, Grace squeezed his hand gently. She smiled at him and the anxiety in his chest softened.

“You’re being a very brave boy, Diego, dear,” His mother told him proudly.

Even though he had six other siblings, he was the first of the group to get his eyes tested. Nobody else had ever needed it. Klaus had wanted to come along, so that he could try on different pairs of glasses in the waiting room, but his mother had told him gently that this trip was just for Diego. No doubt they’d all be eager to drink in the details of what an optician’s office was like when he got back. Diego doubted he’d be in the mood to talk about it.

Somehow, needing glasses felt like a failure on his part, no matter how many times Grace assured him that it wasn't his fault. Maybe it was because his father had looked at him with such disdain when he'd found out. A week ago, when Diego had finally admitted sheepishly that he couldn’t read the writing on the blackboard from his desk, Reginald Hargreeves had been first surprised. Then, irritated. Like he was doing it on purpose. 

“What do you _mean_ you can’t read it, Number Two? Are you illiterate?”

One of his siblings, probably Allison, had giggled nervously. None of them liked it when their dad got angry. Some of the others had cast their eyes down already, trying to dodge his ice glare. Diego forced himself to look at his father, even if it wasn’t so easy from across the room, and tried not hard to stammer.

“It’s all b-blurry, I c-ca-can’t see it from he-here,” His knife felt slippery in his clammy hand.

And that had been that. An optician’s appointment had been booked under his name, his father told him later that day, and then there would be no more excuses for shoddy work. As if Diego had ruined his eyesight on purpose to wriggle out of studies and training. He hadn’t even known that anything was wrong with his eyes. He'd assumed everyone’s vision was blurry like his but his siblings were better at dealing with it. Better than him like they _always_ were. 

Though, if his eyesight was bad, it might explain why his throwing accuracy had always been a little bit off. Controlling the trajectory of a knife was all well and good, unless the target was too far away. His father always chastised him strongly when he missed, causing Diego to set his jaw.

“You need glasses, Diego,” The kind optician said at last, “You’re short-sighted, which means things will look more blurry the further away they are. I’m writing you a prescription for some glasses, which will help you see better. You’ll need to wear them as often as possible.”

Something inside him shrivelled up violently, “Even in f-front- in front of my b-br-brothers?”

“I’m afraid so,” Turning away from her computer, the optician gave him a sympathetic smile, “I know why you’re worried. My older brother used to tease me about wearing braces. I was so upset! But he got used to it eventually,” She paused, “And you seem like the tough sort, Diego. I’m sure they won’t tease you for very long.”

Later, when he was standing in front of the mirror and peering at himself, Diego had a few doubts about that. His new glasses had thick black frames, which looked chunky and out of place on his small features. Grace had picked them out for him and he’d agreed they suited him- but now, he was having second thoughts. Maybe they made him look a bit geeky? Or even a little babyish? Maybe it wasn’t too late to change his mind. 

A hand touched his shoulder and Diego looked up to see his mom. She was beaming at him. 

“You look so handsome, dear,” Grace told him fondly, cupping his face in her hands, “What a good looking young man you’re growing up to be.”

Warmth blossomed in his chest and he felt warm with pride. If his mom thought the glasses looked good... 

It was only as they had left the optician’s, waiting for the car to pick them up, that Diego suddenly tugged on her arm. Just because his mom liked them didn't mean that the glasses suited him. That they really _did_ make him look handsome. After all, Grace was always nice to him, even if he butchered a throw in training or got bad scores on his test papers. Maybe she was just being kind about them. Anxiety was bubbling inside of him, making him feel a bit sick.

“D-do you think the others w-will m-m-make fun of m-me?” Diego asked nervously.

More than once, his siblings had teased him about his stutter and mimicked the way he stumbled through his sentences. Even though Grace had banned them all from making fun of it, after Diego had first gone to her in tears, it hadn’t stopped the whispered jokes behind their desks. Not that his brothers and sisters were bullying him- they all took jabs at each other, some sincerely and others to amuse. He’d laughed plenty at the others. But the stutter jokes had phased out gradually.

All of them had run out of funny things to say about it. Now, his siblings would just roll his eyes in annoyance or sigh loudly whenever he couldn’t get his words out, sometimes jumping in to finish his sentence for him. In some ways, it was even worse than the teasing. But his new glasses would definitely give them fresh material to tease Diego about. What if they all laughed at them? Or mimicked him stumbling around blindly? 

Maybe Dad would even bump him down to Number Three… Or Four. Would he do that? Or, rather, could he do that? It turned Diego’s stomach just thinking about it.

“Of course they won’t,” His mom soothed, “In fact, I’m sure they’ll all want glasses just like you.”

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

As soon as they’d got back, Diego had closed the front door behind him and hoped privately that Grace would be right about this. She knew so many things- had coaxed him through so many of his problems- that maybe her prediction would be correct. In fact, maybe Allison or Klaus would even say that his glasses were fashionable. The pattering of feet on stairs alerted Diego to the fact that his siblings had already finished their training for the day. His hand hovered above the door handle still and he considered making a quick get away before the swarm descended. 

Slowly, he turned around in time to see Klaus skidding down the last few stairs and nearly slipping on the marble floor of the hallway. He grabbed hold of Ben’s shoulders to keep himself upright, the two of them wobbling but staying upright. Behind him, Allison (one hand on the banister) and Luther were chatting as they navigated the stairs together. Cheating, as he always did, Five got to the door first by using one of his spatial jumps. 

“Very good, Five, dear,” Their mother complimented him as she passed by, on her way to remove her coat and (presumably) start cooking dinner.

Diego desperately wished she would stay for a few more minutes.

“You’ve got glasses,” Five observed, smart as he was, “I told you that you were short sighted.”

He really had- several months before Reginald Hargreeves had picked up on anything being wrong- but Diego had denied it furiously, turning a, ( _grimace_ ), blind eye. The others caught up, eager to get a look. Each sibling clamouring to be heard over the other, some teasing and some just curious, it was almost impossible to make out what each of them were saying. Involuntarily, Diego shrank back against the door. A howl of laughter cut through the hubbub and shut everybody up abruptly.

Klaus had fallen to the floor in a fit of giggles, one hand pressed over his mouth in a half-hearted attempt to smother them. It didn’t work. Instead, in the quiet, Klaus’ laughs bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the hallway. Diego set his jaw.

“Number Two is a four-eyes,” Allison delighted at the irony.

Clapping his hands, Klaus guffawed loudly and rolled onto his stomach. It was hard to tell if he was exaggerating for comedic effect or whether he was genuinely that amused. Even Ben had started chuckling now, seemingly infected by the violent laughing fit, and Luther cracked a grin. No doubt he knew that his place as Number One was secure now. Despite his new glasses, Diego’s vision was suddenly very blurry and he had to concentrate furiously on holding back his tears. He wouldn’t cry.

Did his glasses really look that stupid? _Dying of laughter_ stupid?

He pushed his way through the group, shoving Luther and Allison apart so that he could squeeze away from his siblings. Allison cried out in surprise, nearly tripping over her own feet, but recovered easily. There were mumbled complaints from Ben, who was nearly knocked over when his sister staggered into him. Klaus was still laughing and the sound followed Diego towards the stairs, towards the nearest escape route. 

“Come on, Two, don’t be so sensitive,” Luther called after him.

Furiously, Diego spun around to glower at him, “Sh-sh-shut up. You th-think you’re so b-big and s-strong? You’re just a f-fr-freak!”

He couldn’t help lashing out in his rage and felt smug when hurt flickered on his brother’s features. Some of the others looked a bit put out too, as if they didn't realise he was upset, and Allison looked almost apologetic. Not that she said anything, _of course_ , because his sister always took Luther's side. By now, Klaus' laughing fit had died down to just giggles. Five muttered something snarky under his breath but, turning away, Diego shrugged it off. He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

A quiet voice took him by surprise, “I think they look nice.”

Vanya, distant as ever from the rest of the group, was sitting on the stairs with a book in her lap. She peeked up from under her bangs at him, still too nervous to meet her brother’s gaze, and offered him a soft smile. Unlike the kind one from his mom, Vanya’s smile didn’t make him feel any better. It was filled with pity. She felt _sorry_ for him. And more than anything else, Diego couldn’t bear to be pitied. By Seven of all people! 

“I d-don’t n-n-nee-nee- w-want your h-help, Vanya!” He snapped.

She flinched and looked back down at her book. There was no point in sticking around to see the aftermath of his outburst. Diego charged up the rest of the stairs and marched down the hallway to his room, slamming the door behind him. It shook the door frame, which was satisfying, and he knew his siblings would’ve heard the crash. Hopefully, his father hadn't. He ripped off his glasses and threw them, so they clattered across the floor. 

Stupid things. If only Diego had kept his problems to himself… Letting other people in never worked out well. Even if it was his family. He could trust them least of all.

Diego slumped against the door and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. Hot anger was still pumping through his veins, making him want to kick something- but Dad had given him a verbal beatdown when he’d broken his wardrobe the other day and he wasn’t in the mood for another. Not today. Instead, Diego reached for a knife lodged in the door frame and spun the blade easily in his hand. The soothing motion calmed him down a little. It gave him something to focus on. 

Much later that evening- after his mother had called him for dinner several times and finally left it outside- there was a gentle knock on his door. Diego made no move to open it or even call out in response. He knew it was probably Grace again and huffed into his pillow, now lying facedown on his bed. After he flew into one of his rages, Diego was often exhausted and today was no exception. Today had been… draining. He hoped his mom just left him alone. 

Another knock. When he didn’t respond, whoever it was cracked the door open and murmured his name quietly. It definitely wasn’t either of his parents, though he had no idea why any of his siblings would want to see him right now. He certainly didn’t want to see them.

“Diego? Are you asleep?” It was Vanya again.

He growled into his pillow, “G-go away, Vanya.”

The last thing he wanted was for the black sheep of the family to pity him. Where did that put him? Right at the bottom, lowest of the low. Bye, bye, Number Two spot. If Vanya felt sorry for him, Diego might as well pack his bags and leave the academy right now. He certainly didn't want to apologise to her either, even if he did feel slightly guilty for taking his anger out on her like that. After all, Vanya hadn't been laughing at him like the others. 

Unsurely, his sister hovered in the doorway for a moment. Then, Vanya crossed the room and hesitantly lowered herself onto the end of his bed. She seemed to consider touching him, in the gentle way that Grace often did to reassure them, but let her hands fall back into her lap instead. She just sat there quietly, in uncomfortable silence. He didn’t bother telling Vanya to leave again and prayed that she would just take the hint when he ignored her. Maybe that was expecting too much of her though. 

“I wish I had glasses,” Vanya sighed, “They make you look so smart.”

Diego scowled into his pillow, “‘Cos you all th-think I’m s-stupid, right?”

“No! No- I didn’t mean that,” She fumbled for the right words, “I don’t think you’re stupid. You’re just…” They both knew he was bottom in every single one of their classes, “Different, you know? Like me. And the glasses will help, right?”

As if he was going to wear the stupid things. After the way everyone had reacted. 

Maybe she realised this because there was another pause.

“I really do think they suit you,” Vanya said finally, “Me and Mom both do.”

Pointedly, Diego ignored her. Of course, she had already spoken to Grace about the whole thing. Aside from him, Vanya was the closest with their mom and always went running to her whenever somebody was upset. She was the most empathetic of all the siblings, feeling guilty about having a favourite stuffed animal in case it "made the others sad", but had issues expressing it. Didn't know how to comfort people. Vanya always went to their mom to ask what to do. In fact, Grace was probably the one who had sent her up here, told Vanya that she should try and make Diego feel better. They were probably working as a team. 

He refused to look at her, keeping his face buried in his pillow. He was worried his voice would wobble if he tried to say anything. 

In the end, Vanya excused herself and closed his bedroom door quietly behind her. At least his sister hadn’t stuck around for too long, even if those few minutes had been particularly painful, though he kind of missed her presence at the end of his bed. Even if it was _Vanya_. It was nice to know that at least one of his siblings gave a shit about his feelings. Rolling onto his side, Diego glowered at where his glasses were still lying on the floor, right next to his dresser. Stupid, ugly things.

He wouldn’t wear them. He just wouldn’t.


End file.
